62. Lolly
sixty-two
Lolly
Thick smoke clogs my lungs. I blink trying to clear my eyes. “Lani?” I cough.
I bolt upright on the couch. Panting, drenched in sweat.
“Fuck.”
When my vision finally settles I find Mom still peacefully sleeping.
I pull in a ragged breath, unclench my fists and pull my nails from the palms of my hands. I touch the couch, inhale the scent of Mom’s perfume, and concentrate on a small spot on the rug.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
I pull a sucker from the pocket of my sweats. Cotton candy. I taste cotton candy and I smell mom and I can see the rug and I feel the couch. My breathing slows as I calm down.
The nightmares have been a motherfucker the past few months.
I miss my apartment.
My bed.
Living here hadn’t been the plan, but time has a funny way of disrupting our lives—directing our next moves without warning.
But hey, at least the universe did me a solid. I still can’t believe it was him.
I can’t help but smile, those green eyes the best things I’ve seen in a long time. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed him. How much space he takes up. How much space he still has left in my chest.